Eleven Days With the Cursed Sword
by JessenoSabaku
Summary: Zoro's gotten lost again, but this time he doesn't come back. The only thing that's left of him is the Sandai Kitetsu and a feeling in Sanji's gut that there's more to the sword than its legendary misfortune. Sanji-centric with memories of Zoro. Summary and content may or may not change slightly. K.
1. Day 0: To Lose a Nakama

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of One Piece. The series, characters, and all materials you see in here are based off the manga, and belong to Oda and whoever he decided to share his rights with. NO PROFIT is being made off of this. This is a writing project done only for fun and writing critique. Please support the official release.**

INTRODUCTION: … I dunno what to say. This kinda just came to me. I guess I just wanted to show Zoro and Sanji kinda being friends without knowing it? Take it how you please and try to enjoy as much as you can.

**(XXX)**

The morning air was giving way to a smoky afternoon in the port the Straw-hats had landed in. The smoke from Sanji's cigarette joined the sky in acridity, obscuring a few small patches of blue in a thin gray film. The cook took a fresh breath in after breathing out the tobacco. The feeling of clean oxygen filtering out his filthy lungs filled him with new satisfaction, like an ocean wave once more rising up to tackle the shoreline.

On days like this, when he wasn't out running errands for Nami and Robin, Sanji often had the deck to himself. Their stubborn captain would slip out no matter whether they tried to stop him or not, and Usopp and Chopper had made a habit of taking Brook out with them for a night on the town. Their mechanic was always searching for more supplies to feed his urge to build, Nami preferred to spend her time with her orange grove, and Robin often took to her room to read when she wasn't lounging in her deck chair. As for that shitty marimo …

"Oi, shitty cook."

… Today, that shitty marimo happened to be the only one disturbing Sanji's peaceful smoke-break.

Turning around, the blonde found Zoro had finally sauntered out of his quarters like a bear out of hibernation, stretching his powerful back muscles in an effort to wake them up.

"There you are, Marimo," Sanji greeted around the cigarette between his lips. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up." He smirked to himself as he watched Zoro assess the sun's position with his one good eye.

"I hope you weren't expecting to be fed. Breakfast ended hours ago," Sanji teased, then inhaled another lungful of smoke.

"Why didn't anyone wake me?" the swordsman asked with a note of grumbling.

"We did," Sanji said. His words were more of an irritated exhalation of smoke than anything. "You slept like you were dead." The look he shot Zoro was unconcerned at best, but still held a faint curiosity. "Even Luffy jumped on your chest but you just kept snoring away."

"Huh," was all Zoro had to say in response before he was off to the galley. The cook rolled his eyes and flicked his cigarette over the edge of the boat and into the open water before following the other man.

He leaned against the doorway, watching as Zoro roughly searched the fridge and the cabinets, knowing the search would turn up empty.

"Luffy snuck in here behind my back after breakfast," he said at that kimono-clad back. "He totally cleaned us out. Now that you know, you can stop stomping through my kitchen like a brute."

Not one swirly eyebrow twitched at the scathing look Zoro sent the cook's way. "I thought part of your job as a chef was to make sure this didn't happen. How could you let him slip by you so easily?"

"Maybe I was tired," Sanji sighed angrily. "I don't get to sleep all day, unlike _some_ ungrateful bastards."

"Tired?" Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow.

The blonde stiffened against the door frame, not liking the condescending once-over he was being given.

"Look, don't give me the evil eye. I was in the kitchen all morning and only stepped out long enough to collect the dishes after everyone finished eating. When I went back in, Luffy was there and had already eaten everything." With a shrug, Sanji straightened and gave Zoro a defeated grin. "You should know the most how hard it is to keep him from something he wants, Mister First-Mate."

"What am I supposed to do about breakfast, then?"

Sanji produced a small satchel from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, throwing it carelessly in the swordsman's direction. Zoro caught it effortlessly.

"Nami-swan left you some money so you could get a meal in town, though I don't know why. She really is too kind sometimes." Sanji said, lip curled up as if the man in front of him were some foul-smelling animal, but Zoro wasn't fazed, as usual. But what did catch the marimo's eye was the slight smile stretching across the blonde's face to replace his scowl. "Think you can make it back by yourself, or do you need me to hold your hand?"

Pushing past Sanji with an annoyed huff, Zoro growled, "Hell no. Who knows where your hands have been?" Sanji grinned widely at the swordsman's back as his heavy boots clomped loudly out of the galley.

Nowadays, smirks came easier between them and their retorts with more relent. Well, when they were alone, anyway. They were still incredibly ruthless with one another in front of others. But that was to be expected from a disagreement between a former bounty-hunter and a chef brought up in the volatile Baratie. Those men functioned almost purely on pride.

Sanji followed the other man onto the deck with a lazy pace, lighting up another cigarette as Zoro disappeared into his quarters and then returned with his swords. "Make sure you're back before evening. You wouldn't want to miss dinner too, now, would you?"

He expected a sharp retort, but was surprised when Zoro simply expelled a heavy sigh and tightened the sash holding up the swords around his waist. Sanji couldn't see his face, but noticed those strong shoulders and thick neck drooping slightly, as though he were still tired. Zoro hadn't been noticeably tired in a long time.

The swordsman waved without turning around and said a chaste goodbye.

"Wait," Sanji said, the exclamation out of his mouth before he could think to stop it. Zoro turned and acknowledged him. He stood and waited for the cook to say something, but was met with silence.

"What do you want, dartboard?" he said, getting impatient.

Eyes like two pieces of charcoal scraped over Zoro's face. The marimo's expression seemed to indicate alertness and focus, but his weariness showed in how his muscles flexed against what was obviously tight control. Something was up.

Sanji shook his head to clear his doubts. "Nothing. Get lost."

Frowning at him, Zoro huffed and jumped over the side of the ship. Sanji heard the devastating sound of those weighty boots colliding with the boardwalk. For a moment, the chef expected Zoro to have fallen through, but when he leaned over the deck railing and saw a green splotch dart out of the harbor and meld seamlessly with the crowd, a smile came over his face without him realizing.

**(XXX)**

When Sanji brought home the makings of a feast fit for a king, he found the evening sun burning intensely against the sky, slowly beginning its slip into nightly oblivion. His arms were loaded with fresh cuts of meat and vegetables all bundled up in one big package, courtesy of the merchant. He came aboard with his purchases and saw Nami on the deck, arguing with Luffy about something loudly.

"Nami-san, you shouldn't argue with our captain~" Sanji said, giving her a love-stricken smile from behind his packages. "We already know that Nami-san's right. Come now, I'll be starting dinner soon, and I don't want you to eat with such an angry heart~!"

"Oi, Sanji! You're supposed to be on your captain's side!" Luffy squawked, but the other two ignored him for the moment.

Sanji admired the beautiful woman's orange locks. Nami's hair, skin, and eyes were looking more luscious and full of life every day, as if she were growing and getting stronger every day like her patch of oranges. He remembered the time when he, Luffy, Zoro, and Usopp had to rescue her village from Aarlong's clutches. Every smile she gave under Aarlong's mark was fake. Sanji liked to think genuine smiles visited her face more frequently now.

"Is everyone back yet?" he asked her cheerily.

"Yeah," Nami affirmed with a small smile, ignoring Luffy for the moment. "Robin's in her quarters, Usopp, Brook and Chopper are putting away the supplies they bought, and Franky's down in his workshop."

"What about the marimo?" Sanji asked.

She only had to shrug and Sanji understood.

"Seriously? He's lost again?" he sighed, shaking his head. "That guy needs to learn to bring a map."

"Even if he did, he'd probably read it upside down," Nami commented, sharing a laugh with her nakama.

"I'll get started on dinner anyway. The smell will lead him home," Sanji said, awkwardly making his way to the galley, struggling to get the food through the door.

He wasn't long with preparing dinner, and when he began to serve everyone, the sun had already dipped out of the sky to make way for the first rays of shimmering moonlight. He saw that every seat was filled but one.

"Guess he's still not here, huh?" Sanji muttered under his breath. He and Nami exchanged a helpless glance. "Well, it's first come, first serve. Let's just hope Luffy doesn't eat us out of house and home again."

"We'll make sure that doesn't happen," Robin said in that gentle, lyrical voice of hers that soothed every nerve in the cook's body.

"Zoro always finds a way back. If he needs to, he'll get back here in time to defend his food," Usopp said through a mouthful of vegetables, looking pretty hungrily at what would have been Zoro's portion.

With one of those childish smiles the Straw-hats had gotten so used to, Luffy added, "After all, he is my first-mate."

Though Sanji had never really thought about it until then, he was finally struck by Zoro's status. He was the first Straw-hat, besides their leader. Everyone knew the marimo was one crazy bastard—they were all a little insane. They followed unreal dreams, conquered mountains and islands and plateaus previously only conceived in fantasy, and they risked their lives for these goal with an uncertain promise of reward. But Zoro wasn't just a crazy bastard—he was the very first to lose his God-given mind.

Now that Sanji thought about it, he wondered just why Zoro joined in the first place. None of the Straw-hats talked too much about why they joined, or what their personal background entailed. For some crew members like Robin and Franky, it was inevitable that through the crimes that sent them to Enies Lobby, their personal history would come out. But otherwise, apart from stating their goals, they didn't explain what their preceding life was like. Their future was piracy—it didn't matter where they came from as long as their captain believed in them.

Or so Sanji thought, but he found himself wondering what could make Zoro—famous pirate-hunter—join forces with a kid who had no navigational skills, no reputation, and no common sense. And why, exactly, did Zoro wish to become the greatest swordsman in the world?

Sanji stood leaning against the wall as he contemplated, seemingly unwilling to join in on the carefree conversation being made at the dining table. Eventually he left the company of his other crew members to go back onto the deck for a smoke.

The air was just as smoggy as it had been in the afternoon, covering the ship in a thick black shroud. A fickle wind was making lighting up difficult. After wasting a few matches, he managed to get the cigarette burning and took a deep drag to clear his mind. But when he looked out over the deck, he saw something that made him hold in his breath until his lungs burned from caress of tobacco and tar.

Right near the mast, the Sandai Kitetsu was driven into the wood, submerged to almost half its length. It stood straight up, sheath lying dejectedly right beside, and the silver edge glinted beneath the taint of its purple decoration—like dark clouds on a clear horizon. The sword's master was nowhere to be found. No boots were heard stomping around, no green head of hair appeared out of nowhere. The sword's ominous, abnormally-straight posture filled the deck with so much soul and yet left it barren and empty in light of its missing wielder. It called the chef, drawing him to its solemn position embedded painfully in the Sunny's wooden flesh. The sword radiated a feeling of dark expectation and acceptance, as if one could simply pick it up and learn how they would die. This sword had certainly orchestrated its own share of deaths as well.

He took the hilt in his hands and with a quick jerk freed the sword from the deck like Excalibur from the stone. He turned the blade over in his hands, examining it.

"So this is one of your swords, huh?" he muttered to himself.

Then, for a moment, his nerve endings caught fire, glimpsing what felt like the presence of Zoro nearby. He whipped around as if he expected to see the swordsman behind him, but of course, he saw nothing. And yet that glimpse brought on an all-consuming anxiety. It was as if his nakama's presence had been revealed to him for the first time, just before being curtly snuffed out. Or, more accurately, it was as if a "voice" had called out and then been seemingly silenced forever as soon as it spoke.

Quickly sheathing the sword, Sanji took it with him as he ran back into the kitchen to show the others. From the way the blade weighed down Sanji's movements and heart with that silent, beckoning call to the grave, he had a sickening feeling that Zoro was more than "lost."


	2. Day 1: Whisper and Whistle

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of One Piece. The series, characters, and all materials you see in here are based off the manga, and belong to Oda and whoever he decided to share his rights with. NO PROFIT is being made off of this. This is a writing project done only for fun and writing critique. Please support the official release.**

INTRODUCTION: I had no idea this story would pick up so many followers so fast! Thank you so much for your support! Instead of blabbering on for hours during this introduction, I'll just let you read and make your own conclusions. Please enjoy, and favorite and review if you like it or have any questions!

Also, the text below may seem deceiving, but there are no continuous OC's in this story—none with too great an effect anyway.

**(XXX)**

An invitation for an evening spent fishing at the pier. The final cry for help, the final frontier in a life full of battles. Inochi invited all her friends, but she prepared a fishing rod and bait for only one extra person, because one person was all she needed.

Maybe Ikari from her hometown would come. They'd been childhood friends, and had gone fishing together for the first time with her dad in a little lake on the outskirts of town. After fishing together a couple times, they made a weekly habit of it and spent many days catching fish and throwing them back in. They had a fight just before she moved, and no matter how many times she called Ikari to reconcile, he would never answer.

Maybe Kana would come. She used to be a lonely girl, until Inochi invited her to fish. She fished to keep the memory of Ikari alive, in the hopes that maybe someday they'd all be able to be friends. Kana always helped Inochi study and came to her sleepovers when nobody else would. But then all of a sudden one day, Kana confessed that she loved Inochi, and their friendship began to fall apart. Inochi didn't love her that way, and said so a hundred times, but Kana kept pushing until Inochi couldn't take it anymore and told her to get lost. She stopped answering Kana's calls and never paused to talk to her at school. Needless to say, they stopped fishing together. It wasn't as if she hated Kana—she had to admit, maybe she liked Kana a little even in that special way. At the end of the year, Inochi's family moved again, but Inochi still kept tabs on Kana—just in case.

Maybe Hiyaka would come. Probably not, though. He was completely uninterested in her, despite her best attempts to become his friend. They only fished together once, and it was completely by accident—they both happened to like fishing and showed up to the same lake at the same time. Inochi came for sentimental reasons—the clear water reminded her of the blue in Kana's hopeful eyes and the wind in Ikari's hair. She never found out why Hiyaka came. She tried to talk to him while they were fishing, but he staunchly ignored her. As the sun went down and they both packed up to go home, he left her with the first words he'd ever said to her: "I don't know why, but I hate you."

She'd moved one last time since then. Standing on the pier now, she was a third-year in high school, looking towards a bright future in college and looking back on a lonely past full of mistakes. She felt that maybe today she could make up for her errors.

She hooked a minnow through the eye for the extra rod for when that one person would show up. She left her tackle box and all her dreams on the boardwalk.

She only needed one person, but nobody came. Not that she expected anyone to come—after moving so many times, now living far away from any of the people she called her friends, how could she expect them to drop everything for a trip to the pier, for her of all people? A simple apology wouldn't be enough anyway.

In a singular moment of clarity, she contemplated her decision. There were things she still wanted to do with her life. Like go to college, get married, and have a family, and take care of that family so well that her children would never do what she was about to do.

But as if her legs were cut out from under her, she fell forward and her fate was decided. She crashed through the surface and found her legs and arms couldn't move, as if the softest of lullabies had sung them to sleep. There was nothing she could do, no way she could struggle even if she wanted to. The water filled up her mouth and slowly dragged her body into the murky blue depths of the unredeemable. The only legacy left behind was the rod left abandoned on the peer, a stoic reminder of happiness gone by, and the invitation to her suicide that she sent to the friends she had lost:

"Fish for me."

**(XXX)**

The morning greeted Sanji with a splitting headache. Writhing in his bed, the chef groaned and brushed his hair out of his face.

"Well, a rousing 'fuck you' to you too," he said to his aching temples.

He couldn't quite remember how he got here. His biological clock was telling him that it was the middle of the afternoon, which confused him. Usually he was up and ready by about six in the morning as part of his body's automatic response. Not only did he not wake up at the correct time, but he couldn't even remember falling asleep, and his body felt pinned to the bed by exhaustion.

He managed to drag himself into a sitting position, laboriously wiping the sleep from his eyes. When his vision began to come into focus, he was startled when he saw the Sandai Kitetsu propped up nearby. He felt like it was watching him. A chill ran down his spine and he dragged himself out of bed and into the hall. He stood stock-still, listening for voices in any of the other rooms, any sign there was someone immediately nearby whom he could question. But the hall was eerily silent, leaving Sanji only to the slow, steady pulse of his migraine and the feeling that someone was standing behind him. He turned around, but nobody was there.

He left the corridor and went into the galley, figuring he would go ahead and start preparing dinner. There wasn't much else he could do—he was certain that when everyone congregated to eat, he'd hear more about the situation with Zoro. And also, he was tense. Sleep hadn't relaxed him at all, only turned his nervousness from the previous day into anxiety. He figured that cooking would help him regain some semblance of calm.

In the kitchen, before he did anything else, he rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. But the more he scrubbed his hands, the dirtier they felt, as if his arms were submerged in mud up to his elbows and he couldn't get it off, no matter how hard he tried. After washing he went to the fridge and pulled out some fish. He washed one and laid it on the cutting board, cutting one long slice along the side of it so he could get the skeleton out. The blade dragged in the fish's skin and scales with a sound that to Sanji's ears sounded like the shudder of the deck as he'd pulled Zoro's sword out from it the day before. His knife carried the same weight as the cursed sword had when he held it, and the thought of his cooking utensils bearing the same weight as a weapon of murder made his insides churn.

He stopped his cutting almost as soon as he started and leaned on his elbows on the kitchen counter, staring, troubled, at the fish's glassy eyes. For some reason he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just broken both of his oaths**(2)** somehow. He waited in somber expectation, as if the fish could somehow awake and explain his mistake to him.

Robin's voice in the doorway startled him out of his reverie.

"I see you're finally up," she said with a smile as she graced the doorway. Her expression became serious as he stood straight and faced her so he could greet her properly. "Are you alright? You're so pale."

"I'm fine," Sanji said, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and a match to light it. "Where is everyone?"

"Nami, Brook, and Franky are out on the deck. Usopp, Chopper, and Luffy are out searching for Zoro."

Sanji's spirits sank even further. "Still?"

She nodded. "We searched all night, but we couldn't find a trace of him." Her eyes filled with sadness. "Luffy hasn't slept a bit."

Rubbing his eyes, Sanji said, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to help. What happened to me? The last thing I remember, I was running in to tell you guys about the sword being in the deck, and then the rest was a blank until I woke up today."

"Huh?" Robin asked. "I thought you went out to search with them last night." When he gave her a confused look, she continued. "After you told us you found his sword, Luffy and Franky immediately prepared to search, and when they left, you went with them. You were gone all night, and all three of you came back at the same time. Don't you remember?"

Shaking his head, Sanji took a drag from his cigarettes and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to remember, but no memories filled the yawning chasm between this afternoon and last night.

He felt a soft, feminine hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you're alright?"

He couldn't tell her. He didn't know why he felt so poorly, and why his thoughts were so attuned to Zoro's sword. He couldn't worry Robin, who always cared so much for her nakama even to the point of destroying the world for them. She was so strong, with the power to move mountains and to slice open hillsides and pour out their past like blood, if she wanted to, and yet so frail that she would fall and shatter if there were no one to hold her up. And their captain was probably in no frame of mind to do that.

If Luffy and the others could find Zoro, then maybe the worry would dissolve like it'd never been there at all. And maybe the memory of handling the cursed sword would vanish, too.

**(XXX)**

Sometimes while Nami was on-deck sorting out everyone's share of money for the day, she let Sanji braid her hair amidst the sunny afternoon, and her sun-kissed locks warmed his hands as he worked. He loved Nami—not the way he loved every woman with a fine dress and a fair smile, but the way he loved Robin whenever she asked him to grab her clothes off the line and didn't complain if he brought back a suggestive outfit. When he was finished braiding Nami's hair, if he brought her a mirror and she liked what she saw, she'd give him a smile and some extra beli. He'd use the extra money to go out and buy the makings for an extravagant feast, in order to pay her back for the warmth in her smile.

When he braided her hair, he thought of how lucky he was to be in her presence. She spent all her time making map that would guide them all over the world and eventually to One Piece, she held a firm hand over the crew's finances so they wouldn't go broke, and she always said thank you for her meal. She was strong and smart—a woman every woman should aspire to be. Sometimes he thought of other women, like Robin and Vivi, or Princess Shirahoshi and Fishman Island.

Sometimes, though, he thought of Zoro.

**(XXX)**

The blackness of the sky encompassed a small, quiet town, just barely still awake with a few lights shining dimly through the windows of homely little houses. Drunken men in the streets hummed into their bottles of rum, half-focused eyes trailing Zoro as he dashed through the streets. The swordsman's eyes searched for a certain scarf, bejeweled with plastic gems and bright colors that had mocked him from around the gypsy's neck as she ran off with his swords.

He caught sight of it briefly, fluttering around a corner, and quickened his pace to catch up to it. He chased it through several winding streets, pursuing as it ducked past street lamps and between startled passersby, and finally into a dead-end alleyway where the chase ended. When the gypsy backed against the wall, the scarf obscured behind her back, Zoro finally registered her face. Her plump, rouged lips quaked in fear, but her small, beady brown eyes stared at him with conviction, framed by pink and yellow dust, like a last glimpse of a setting sun. She held his swords close to her body, gripping the sheaths with hands that jerked as if fighting to pull them closer or toss them away.

"Give them back," Zoro ordered.

She made no move, simply stood still, eyes flickering over the walls of the alleyway as if looking for a loose brick she could pull to send the whole wall crumbling so she could escape. She said nothing, the only sound from her lips being the whisper and whistle of a fearful soul on the verge of judgment.

"Give them back," Zoro ordered, this time more forcefully. He took a step forward, and her eyes snapped forward and locked on his. She still silently disobeyed him, tensing herself and awaiting his strike.

She probably just wanted to sell his swords. Maybe she had a family to feed. Maybe she was like Nami, and had to pay someone not to kill her. Maybe she'd been doing this for years—stealing people's possessions—and today just happened to be her unlucky day. Maybe she needed Zoro's swords more than he did.

But two of those swords were already stolen. Someday, he would need to give them back.

He lunged forward and she did too, drawing the Wado Ichimonji from its sheath. She swung clumsily at him and he easily dodged, grabbing the wrist holding the sword and snapping it mercilessly in two. She dropped the blade and screeched like a bird clipped of its wing, and he punched her in the jaw to stop the sound. She stumbled backwards, still blindly clutching the other two swords. Zoro picked up the Wado Ichimonji, watching coldly as the gypsy used Shusui to help herself to her feet. Her chin and cheeks were rouged further by blood pouring from her nose and a cut in her lip. With her good hand, she drew the Shusui next, holding the Sandai Kitetsu in the crook of her other elbow. Even clumsier than before, she rushed him and swung. Effortlessly, he dodged and broke her wrist, striking her again when she emitted the same hawk-like scream. He caught Shusui before it could clatter to the ground.

She managed to keep from falling down by leaning on the Sandai Kitetsu, muttering viciously at him in a language he couldn't understand as one of her front teeth fell. Her voice was quivering and sobbing, but without a hint of begging. Zoro doubted that even if he laid her down and prepared to rape her, held her at knife point and gave her the choice of giving up, she would continue to stand, no matter how weak her foothold. Her eyes could see the end, reflected in her pupils and the sheen of the blade, but she was still refusing him.

She prepared to lunge, but as if to purposefully stop her, the Sandai Kitetsu got entangled with her legs and she tripped, falling onto her stomach. With a sigh at the pathetic display, Zoro reached down to pull the sword out from under her. She struck her head out like a serpent and sunk her teeth into his wrist, shielding the sword with the rest of her body. Zoro cursed and drove his heavy boot into her side. She groaned, but didn't release her grip. His boot dug into her uncovered side over and over again—her stomach, ribs, chest, and hip all suffering blows—until she finally relented, blood wheezing out of her mouth and down his arm, and her head dropped in exhaustion and pain to the dirt below. He rolled her body over and grabbed the Sandai Kitetsu, grimacing as the sheath gleamed in what seemed to be a bright smile.

He sheathed the other two swords as well, returning them all to his side. He cast a look at the gypsy woman, contemplating what he should do with her, when he heard a voice approaching from behind.

"Marimo?" he heard. "Anyone see a lost marimo wandering around?"

With another sigh, Zoro carefully picked up the crippled woman, who was still awake and now looking at him with a fearful, half-glazed eye as he held her in his arms. She whimpered syllables underneath her breath that he didn't care to hear. He walked out of the alleyway, immediately finding the source of the voice that had been calling for him.

"Oh, there you are," came the greeting from behind that familiar shag of blonde hair. "You were gone so long, Nami asked me to—" The man froze in place, looking in horror at the woman Zoro was carrying. "Who—? What the hell happened?"

"We got into a bit of a fight," Zoro admitted. He held the woman's body out. "Sanji, can you take her to a doctor?"

The blonde's eyes sharpened and burned, churning red tones beneath the brown like a raging inferno churns out flames. "Don't tell me you did this."

"If I did, I'd be lying," Zoro said gruffly, still holding the woman out. "Take her."

"You take her," Sanji said. "That's the least you can do considering you're the bastard who beat her."

"If you don't take her, I'll leave her," Zoro warned, but made no move to put the woman down.

The chef took stock of the woman's terrified face and her wrists, battered and bloody. He gently touched one of her hands and she shrieked, striking out at him. "For fuck's sake, Zoro, what the hell did she ever do to deserve this?"

"She stole my swords," the swordsman said simply. "I chased her down, but she wouldn't give them back, and tried to attack me."

"And that merits this kind of beating?" Sanji's eyes caught side of the bruises and contusions along the woman's stomach. "Good God … How could you do this?"

"I gave her the chance to give them back, but she didn't. She took my swords and tried to attack me," Zoro reiterated. "She was an enemy."

"She's a _woman_," Sanji snarled. "She's a delicate, precious human being."

"I'm leaving her," Zoro suddenly said in irritation, setting the woman down on the ground. "If you're so worried about her, go take her to a doctor." He started to walk away, but Sanji yanked him back by the arm so they were face to face.

"What's wrong with you? Why would you ever do that to a woman?" he hissed.

"I'd do it to a man, too," Zoro said.

"Women are different than men. Men are abhorrent pigs who fight and hate and kill."

"Women are the same as men," Zoro said, matching Sanji's glare with his own. "They hurt and kill people just the same, and get hurt and take their own beatings."

"But to hurt such a fragile, beautiful creature—"

Zoro wrenched his arm free and growled, "You don't seem to understand just how strong they really are." He remembered the look in the gypsy woman's eyes as she defied him, clinging to every last one of his swords, as if they could somehow repair whatever Zoro had broken and more, as long as she made it out of the fight alive. Those eyes and that painful scream brought back flashes of black hair, a cool smile, and a child-like voice that haunted him still to this very day.

"I know they're strong," Sanji said. "But admiring their delicacy is to admire their strength. It's like how you wouldn't kill your master out of honor for his position. Women work so hard to keep the balance between strength and delicacy—why would you want to ruin the latter with your fists?"

"If being delicate is really so important to them, they can fend for it themselves," Zoro growled. He stole a look at the gypsy woman, who had managed to get to her feet and was tiptoeing away from their argument. "Stop treating them like ornaments. If you're too rough with a woman, she'll break—but it's the same with any man, too. It's exactly you jackasses who feel you have to be a knight in shining armor who make life harder on women."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sanji bellowed.

A young voice echoed softly, sadly in the back of Zoro's mind.

"_You always said you'd become the best swordsman in the world. My father told me that … it's not possible for a woman."_

A strange emptiness stole over Zoro's face.

"_Zoro … it must be nice to be a man."_

"They're delicate, alright," he said quietly. "But don't let that fool you. Don't let it stop you from counting them as enemies, partners, or equals."

"But I am counting them as equals."

"No, you're not," Zoro said firmly, and turned before Sanji could respond. "That woman is crawling away as we speak. If you want her to get any medical attention, I'd chase after her before she escapes."

He left Sanji to do whatever he would, and stalked back towards the ship. The quiet murmur of the town, washing over his head and his entire body, filled the world up all the way to the pitch-black sky. It was one of the many nights that Zoro drowned, and something else rose up inside of him to take his place.

**(XXX)**

Only Usopp returned from the search expedition, clambering loudly onto the boat in the evening hours and pushing open the door to the galley. Sanji was still standing despondently at his work station, prepared to make dinner, but wondering if he should try cook again for fear of what happened the last time. He'd made some chit-chat with Robin and Franky in between sessions in the kitchen, but most of the time he stood at the counter, trying to get the guts up to cut open another fish.

"Sanji!" Usopp yelled, startling the blonde out of his thoughts. "You're coming with me."

"What happened? Did you find Zoro?" Sanji asked, alarmed that perhaps a battle was about to take place.

The sniper shook his head. "We want to search further out into the island, but it's a big place. We can't keep coming back to base camp every time we leave if we want to search the whole island, so we're going to go out for a couple of days at a time to search. Luffy wants Brook, Franky, Nami, and Robin to hole up and defend the ship, and he wants you to join us in our search, in case we can't find an inn and need someone to help us find food."

"Alright. I'll bring some food with me just in case," Sanji said, immediately moving to package some of the food from the fridge. "Where are Luffy and Chopper?"

"Still out, currently getting us a room at an inn in town about an hour and a half out from here." Usopp was carrying a travel bag and he set it down on the counter, unzipping it so Sanji could store the packaged food inside. "Don't bring too much, we need to travel light so we can get up and go at a moment's notice."

"I don't plan on bringing much more than this," Sanji said, zipping up the bag after depositing all the extra food and a few cooking utensils. "I'll go get a change of clothes from my room and then meet you on-deck."

Usopp nodded and they departed, Usopp back to the desk and Sanji to his living quarters. The chef quickly snatched a shirt, a pair of pants, some underwear and some socks from his drawers and quickly stuffed them in a small satchel. When he turned to head back out the door, he saw the cursed sword propped up by the door, as if eagerly awaiting something. Sanji could've sword it had been across from his bed when he first woke up, and he hadn't moved it since.

A shiver ran through his body and he ignored the sword and the irrational temptation to take it with him. He swung his satchel over his shoulder and, without another look at the blade, Sanji left his room, slamming the door behind him. He couldn't get out onto the deck fast enough.

"You ready?" Usopp asked as the chef approached, but then his face contorted in surprise. "Whoa, man, you look like you just saw a ghost."

"I'm fine," Sanji assured him. "Let's just hurry. I want to get there before it gets too dark."

**(XXX)**

**(1) **- This little number isn't noted anywhere for the sake of cleanliness in the text, but … on the note of the names of the temporary OC's (according to Nihongodict): "Inochi" is derived from the word "inochigake" which can mean "desperate," "life and death," or "risking one's life. "Ikari" is "hatred." It can also, under a different kanji, mean "anchor." "Kana" is derived from "kanashimi" which is, as you probably well know, "sadness." And lastly, "Hiyaka" is derived from "hiyayaka" which means "indifferent," "cold," or "chilly (in attitude)." Interpret the meanings along with the text however you wish.

**(2) **- These oaths, in case you don't remember, are the oaths that, one, Sanji will never use a knife or blade for fighting, and two, that he will never hurt a woman.

Also, an important thing to note, is that "Kuina" means "water rail," which is a type of bird.

Notes: Thanks again to everyone following! Sorry it took so long to update, but college has just started for me, and I'm trying to get used to the life. I'm also goofing off a little too much in my free time, instead of writing! Please forgive me! And please keep reading, and let me know what you think. I love you all.


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